Cold
by MayaTheGreatish
Summary: In which Stiles is cold, and extremely displeased at the cliché his life has become, until he isn't either of these things. Rated M for Stiles' language. Sterek one-shot.


**This is just a quick Sterek drabble, because I have an invisible tattoo that says "STEREK4LYFE" and I'm really mad at the current season. Things would be different if I owned Teen Wolf (like people recognizing the sexiness/brilliance/awesomeness of Stiles) but, alas, I do not. Just sitting here playing with other people's barbies. Love- Maya**

"Jesus fuck, what is even with my life?" Stiles hissed to himself through chattering teeth. Across the room, Derek rolled his eyes, not that he wasn't as appalled as Stiles.

Currently a genuine-article, sparkle-free vampire ("I fucking told you!" Stiles had said a few minutes ago, "but did you listen to me? _No, Stiles, vampires aren't _fucking_ real._") was stalking the snowy forest in search of them, "them" here meaning the human who had figured out that he was a vampire, and the Alpha of the territory. Derek and Stiles were currently hunched over at opposite ends of a cave, Stiles having laid mountain ash at the entrance.

"Fucking really," Stiles griped on. "I didn't even have time to grab a goddamn coat. Fucking Ant-fucking-arctica out here, I can't even believe this. Jesus Christ." He rubbed his hands rapidly up and down his arms, pushing his knees even closer to his chest.

Derek sighed, watching the huge white cloud it produced. "I couldn't just leave you alone in your house for him to find. You said yourself that the no-entry-without-invitation thing is only a myth."

"Don't think I don't appreciate the concern, Derek, because, really, I do, but I had time to grab a fucking coat."

"The hell you did, Stiles, he was right behind me! He would've had you completely exsanguinated by the time you even found your damn coat."

"So, what, you just sweep into my room, throw me over your shoulder, and drag me out into the elements—said elements being the _fucking cold ones_—without so much as a how-de-do, let alone an explanation, until we're already in the forest?"

"So it would seem," Derek replied dryly.

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Stiles rubbed at his arms even faster.

There were a few seconds of silence until Derek finally said, "I couldn't risk your dad coming home with a vampire headed your way. He's a civilian in all this."

Stiles stared hard at the floor to Derek's right for a while until he finally sighed, "I know, I know. Jesus. I'm just frustrated, this isn't fair to Dad. Frustrated and fucking _cold_."

Derek considered the boy for a moment, then sighed and got to his feet. "Want help with that?"

Stiles blinked up at him. "Help with—aw, God, that is so cliché! What the hell! Out in the cold, resorting to each other's body heat to stay warm, who writes this shit? I am firing my life's writers!"

Derek lifted an eyebrow, choosing not to understand what Stiles was talking about. "So… you don't want me to—?"

"The hell I don't, get over here. It's time for man cuddles."

Derek sighed. "You say the most persuasive things."

Stiles just frowned not-adorably and made grabby hands at him.

Derek sighed again, but obligingly crossed the cave and settled next to Stiles, wrapping a leather-clad arm around him and pulling him against his side. Stiles curled into him, knotting his hands in Derek's shirt under his jacket and resting his cheek against Derek's chest. "Wow, you guys really do run hot, huh?" Stiles muttered into the thin fabric, laying his legs over one of Derek's and curling them up. "Even warmer than Scott." He looked up into Derek's face, eyes wide and bright; he was in learning mode, and Derek had to fight his eyeroll. "Why is that? Is it because you're a born wolf, or because you're an Alpha? Do you think it correlates with eye color, too? Is Peter warm, even though he's all undead and creepy? Is he, like, people-warm or werewolf-warm… or is he Alpha-warm, since he used to be one? Or would that be born-wolf-warm—?"

"Stiles," Derek finally said. "Please, act like we're being hunted by a vampire. Meaning shut up."

"You're no fun," Stiles snorted. "It's not like he can get past the barrier I set up, so it's no biggie even if he finds us. And besides, no walls during man-cuddles."

"I don't have answers."

Stiles scowled up at him. "I reiterate: you're no fun." He laid his head on Derek's chest again, and there was quiet for a few minutes, until Derek remembered and looked down at Stiles.

"Why were you so sure of vampires' existence, anyway?"

Stiles didn't even bother looking up. "Because _werewolves_."

This confused Derek further. "What about werewolves?"

Stiles lifted his head to stare at him with some incredulity, then huffed (his breath sliding over the skin of Derek's throat, but that's not the point) and said, "Lemme put it this way: if werewolves, a fucking _mythical creature_, exist, why can't other mythical creatures, such as vampires, or harpies, or fuckin'… _unicorns_, I don't know, exist?"

Derek got scowly. "I'm not mythical."

"Uhm, according to me a year ago, _yuh-huh_. Seriously, if you were to just go up to your and calmly explain your shall-we-say heritage, you'd be put away with no further questions. But after this past year, I say anything's possible."

"That sound optimistic, but I know it isn't."

"That describes me pretty well." He snuggled in a little closer. "I'm still not over how clichéd my situation is right now."

"I still don't know what you're talking about."

"Bitch please, yes you do." While Derek was busy being stunned at being called _bitch_, Stiles went on, "Snuggling in a freezing cave with a werewolf while hiding from a vampire? Stefanie Myer, call your office. The only way this would get more ridiculous would be if you kissed me unexpectedly and I had a weird crisis over it, because hot werewolves kissing people apparently causes that."

"What."

"Yeah, Bella's, like, allergic to abs or some shit. Hence, ridiculous crisis."

"Huh." Derek chose this moment to have a sense of humor and tilted Stiles face up so he could press a kiss to Stiles' lips—nothing overt, just a chaste press of lips, but lingering. When he pulled back, Stiles' eyes were wide as saucers, his mouth slack and silent, and Derek managed to not laugh. "Any crises?"

Stiles blinked at him a few times until a huge grin stretched his lips. He climbed into Derek's lap, throwing his arms around his neck. "Hell, no," he murmured before pressing his lips to Derek's. This time there was motion, heat, and their tongues tangled eagerly as Derek slid his hands up Stiles' back, pressing him closer.

As he felt Derek's claws through the thin material of his shirts, Stiles chuckled a little into Derek's mouth, and Derek pulled back a little to ask, "What's so funny?"

"I'm still stuck on the cliché. But please, continue to make with the kisses."

"Please don't, actually." Derek and Stiles leapt apart—Derek's claws and fangs already out and ready for action—and whirled to see the vampire standing at the entrance of the cave with his nose wrinkled. "Really, spare my eyes."

Stiles stuck his tongue out at him (seriously, _stuck his tongue out at a vampire_) and turned to Derek. "More kisses later, once he's dead?"

Derek smiled. "More kisses later."

The vampire gagged. 

**Disclaimer: the vampire's views are most assuredly not mine.**


End file.
